


Happy F**king Valentine's Day

by NairobiWonders



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Anger, Contains some mature language, F/M, Fighting, Joanlock - Freeform, Valentine's Day, of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 13:57:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9747380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NairobiWonders/pseuds/NairobiWonders
Summary: This was supposed to be a light drabble and became this. I've posted Valentine's Day stories here and on tumblr for the past three years so I'm posting it ... not smut by the way - again, don't want to mislead





	

She placed the gift bag on the desk and smiled. He tore his eyes away from the screen and scowled at her, waiting for her to explain herself. 

"It's a gift," she crossed her arms and stood over him. He continued scowling. "For you, its a gift. Open it." She smiled at him again but with a little less enthusiasm. 

"Unless this bag contains the severed head of Detective Arnold Lewis, I am not interested." He hunched back over the keyboard and squinted at the screen, muttering, "The man discredits the profession.... his report is unreadable ... full of opinions rather than facts ...no interview skills ..."

"Sherlock!" She cut off his ramble. "Just open the bag!" The smile was gone. 

Sherlock reluctantly acquiesced. With a disparaging grunt, he removed the protective layer of lime green tissue paper and tossed it aside. He reached in, felt the contents but did not extract it from the bag. "Really? Did we not discuss this?" His look of irritation irritated her.

He pulled out a small leather bound book, its edges yellowed, the title imprinted in gold across its spine. The volume was given a quick examination and then carefully placed back into the bag. "I specifically asked you not to do this. I told you no." He stuffed the tissue back into bag.

"Your welcome.... Wow, you truly are horrible at being gracious, aren't you..." A small battle of angry staring ensued until she caved in and spoke. "I ruined your first edition of Peter Pan and I am replacing it."

"No." He stood and attempted to hand her the bag. "You do not have the financial resources I have. I could have replaced the book myself if I felt it necessary. It is not necessary. You shall return this." Once again he offered her the bag. 

Joan stood her ground and angrily refused. "First of all, I am not a child, I do not take orders from you. I do as I please. Second, this is gift. Even if you don't like it, you say thank you and shut up!" 

His defiant glare wavered but he did not back down. Joan sighed and took the bag from his hand, "I know how much that book meant to you. I saw the inscription from your mom... this one can never be the same, I understand that. But if nothing else, accept it to make me feel better about being careless with something precious ...."

"Fine! ... fine." With a dismissive flick of his hand, Sherlock walked past her into the library. His manner angered her once more but she controlled herself, returned the bag to the table and headed downstairs before she said something truly hurtful to him. 

Joan had barely cross the threshold of the kitchen when she heard his footsteps behind her. Turning to face him, she prepared herself for battle. 

Sherlock came up uncomfortably close to her, "If that's what gifts are supposed to do, make the giver feel better...then ..." his hand dove into his jacket pocket. "Here take this." He thrust a small white bag into her hand and started to walk away. 

"As gracious in giving as in receiving..." she muttered. She opened the bag and her lips parted in surprise. Joan recognized the ring box immediately; she had no need to open it. His mother's ring. "Sherlock?" He surely could not be giving this to her. "This is your mom's ring. What .... what do yo want me to do with it?"

"Try it on." His manner was still confrontational.

"What? Why?"

"It's a gift, Watson."

"That's ridiculous. You are just being spiteful. You know this ring is worth more than... than the brownstone. You are trying to prove a point. I get it. You're trying to make me feel as bad about your alleged gift to me as I made you feel with my gift to you."

He plunged his hands into his pockets and stared at her. Words tried to push their way out of his mouth but were instead rolled across his tongue and contained behind tightly closed lips. 

Joan put the ring box on the table and angrily pivoted to walk away, again. "Happy fucking Valentine's Day, Sherlock!"

"Watson!" He practically yelled her name. "Try the damn ring on!" He went over to the table, removing it from the box and in two steps was in front of her. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply before offering her the ring once more. 

Joan, utterly confused, was not sure what to do. "I don't know what kind of game you're playing, some kind of power play is it? ... but I am not playing along."

He dropped his head in defeat. "Alright. ... Understood." Sherlock returned the ring to the box as she left.

His voice quiet and controlled, he quoted her previous comment to himself. "Happy fucking Valentine's Day."

 

It was the middle of the night. His bedroom was dark but she could make out his outline on the futon sofa. He lay with an arm over his eyes. Joan sat. She knew he was awake and spoke, "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry as well." He didn't remove the arm across his eyes. 

"Things just kind of escalated and I'm not sure why ..."

"My fault ... feeling rather vulnerable so I covered by being an ass..." he removed the arm from his face and looked at her. 

Joan smiled but didn't contradict him. "Why ... " she cleared her throat, "why did you have your mother's ring in your pocket?"

Her question was met with a few seconds of silence. Sherlock finally answered. "I had it resized."

"Oh," is all she could say.

He reached towards the small table beside the sofa and picked up the ring, offering it to her once more. "It's not a proposal of any sort, I assure you. It is beautiful and I thought it should be enjoyed rather than remain hidden..... The ring means a great deal to me ... as do you..." His voice trailed off.

Things dropped into place for her and she understood. Blinking away, tears that threatened to slip, she carefully put on the ring, "Hmm, it fits." She slowly lowered herself onto his chest and gave him a gentle hug. "Thank you."

They lay quietly for a few minutes adjusting to the proximity and new found peace. His voice whispered close to her ear, "This doesn't mean I'm accepting the book by the way..."

She snorted a laugh and buried her face in his neck. "You are such an asshole."

He smiled into the darkness and held her a little tighter.


End file.
